蛰伏的春天春分过了,清明过了,春天还没有来。其实,春天早在“草色遥看近却无”的唐诗意境中来了。然而不是我构想中的“杂花生树,草长莺飞”的春天,或者代表着欢乐、轻松、新奇的春天。西北风卷着沙尘铺天盖地,充塞着高原人的生存空间,包括眼角和心灵。似乎春天总是这样,干旱,扬尘、沙暴、旋风……西北风劲吹,阻挠着春天前行的脚步。 The crouching spring equinox passed, the Ching Ming passed, and spring did not come yet. Actually, spring came early in the poetic world of the Tang poetry, where “grass-colored distance looked near but nowhere.” However, it is not spring in my conception of “hybrid peanuts, grass, grasshoppers”, or represents a happy, relaxed, and novel spring. The northwest wind is covered with sand and dust, filling the plateau’s living space, including the eyes and hearts. It seems that spring is always the case. Drought, dust, sandstorms, and whirlwinds... The northwest wind blows and blocks the pace of spring.